


Nobody Loves Me Like You Love Me

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen, M/M, three parts are gen one part is shippy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-16 15:14:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5830417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter the universe, no matter the circumstances, one thing is always for certain: Dick Grayson and Damian Wayne will always find each other. And always love each other.</p><p>(A four-part series of one-shots.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nobody

**Author's Note:**

> The Dick&Damian mini I’ve been teasing for a few months now. Each of the four stories is in a completely separate, unrelated universe, and are inspired by ‘Hold Each Other’ by A Great Big World/the lyrics below. Here, the ‘Normal’ universe. There is no Batman/superheroes. Damian was discovered to exist from an old love affair at age 8, and here he’s 9. Tim is 13.5, Jason’s 15 or so, and Dick is 17 going on 18. The elder three are still adopted.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 - Brothers. In which art is destroyed.

Dick heard shouting as soon as he walked in the door.

“I didn’t-! I swear, Jay-” Tim, speaking quickly and angrily. Dick immediately rushed forward, spun around the corner, and found Jason standing over Tim, pressing an ice pack to his eye. “ _He_ attacked _me!_ ”

“No shit.” Jason drawled, glancing up as Dick stormed into the room. “I saw. If I hadn’t – do really think he’d have only gotten _one_ hit in?”

“You know how Alfred feels about swearing, Jay.” Dick chastised absently, dropping to his knees in front of Tim, gently cradling his chin and turning his head, taking in the darkening bruise over his eye. “What happened?”

“What do you _think_ happened?” Tim spat, wincing as the ice pack slid awkwardly across his skin. “Damian _punched_ me!”

Dick paused in his assessment, glanced up at Jason, who nodded in confirmation. “…Why?”

“Like I know!”

“He’s a little monster.” Jason agreed. “I can’t believe Bruce wanted him to come stay here.”

Dick frowned. “Jason-”

“Oh, come off it, Dick.” Jason snapped. “You don’t like him either!”

Dick pressed his lips together, stood back up. “Where is he?”

“Hell if I know.” Jason sighed. “He took off after I pulled him off Tim. I called after him, but. Well. You know how well he _listens_.”

“You keep Tim here, and keep the ice pack on his eye. Tim, lie down and cool off.” Dick began backing out of the room. “After I talk to Damian, I’ll call Bruce and tell him what happened. Unless you already did?”

“Oh yeah, like _I_ want to be the one to tell him these two losers got in a fight – _again_.” Jason droned. “No, not even Alfred knows. I only texted _you_ , since you’re the only one the kid will _maybe_ _sometimes_ listen to.”

“Fine, we’ll keep it between us for now.” Dick sighed. He paused at the doorway, though, glanced over his shoulder. “And for the record? I _do_ like Damian. He’s our brother, of _course_ I like him.”

Jason snorted, didn’t look up from Tim’s eye. “Yeah, okay. You tell yourself that, Dickie.”

“…Just remember, Jay.” Dick shot back, and he knew it was a dangerous thing to say. It was secret, sort of. One Jason had told Dick in confidence years ago. He shouldn’t be saying it, shouldn’t be _thinking_ it but, well. Damian was _nine_. And despite not currently knowing what really happened, someone had to stick up for him. There could be another fight in seconds, and this time _he’d_ probably be the one with the black eye. “ _You_ didn’t like Tim at first either.”

He darted out of the room before Jason or Tim could respond.

After spending a few minutes searching the house, he found the little boy in his room, curled up on the window seat, knees to his chest, face lowered against his crossed arms. And Dick thought he was pouting – this tended to be how he did so, after all – up until he heard the loud hitch of a cut-off sob.

_Aw, hell._

“Damian-”

 _“Go away!”_ The little boy shrieked, head jerking up, tears splashing away from his cheeks. “Get out of my room!”

He faltered when he registered that it was Dick standing there, but still tried to hold his ground. Still tried to keep his face fierce and eyes angry.

“Go away.” He repeated, almost sounding defeated already, flopping his face back against his arms, looking out the window. “I’m sure Drake isn’t done _whining_ to you yet.”

“I just want to know what happened.” Dick said calmly, stepping forward. “I just-”

“I didn’t do it!” Damian shouted, and he didn’t look back towards Dick, but Dick could see the reflection of his face in the glass. His lip was still trembling, and the tears were still falling. “Whatever he told you – I didn’t do it!”

Dick frowned as he reached the window seat, stood cautiously over Damian’s form. “I saw the black eye, are you telling me you didn’t do _that?_ ”

“Well…” Damian sighed, seemed to curl tighter into himself. “I _did_ do that.” He peeked upwards, rubbed his oversized sleeve at his eye. It took a second, but Dick realized that it was _Bruce’s_ shirt. An old one he never wore anymore. “But everything _else_.”

“And what _is_ everything else?”

The little boy scoffed. “Whatever Drake told you. I didn’t do it.”

“Tim didn’t tell me anything.” Dick returned sternly. “Just that you punched him.”

“Yeah, _right_.”

Dick sighed, ran his fingers back through his hair. “Damian, _please_.”

“Oh, shut up, _Grayson_.” Damian spat. “You’re not _Father_ , you can’t tell me what to do.”

Dick bit his tongue, literally. Debated just leaving it at that and walking out of the room. Because Jason was right – the kid was a brat, and even Dick was no stranger to avoiding him half of the time.

But.

They were brothers. They were all the sons of Bruce Wayne, and there was no way around it.

And the kid was hurting.

Jason had called Damian a ‘little monster.’ But couldn’t Dick be called the same if he just left him here?

“…Hey,” He whispered, kneeling beside the ledge. Damian sniffed, refused to look at him. “Damian, tell me what happened.”

Damian tried to blink away the new wave of tears. “What do you care. You’ll just take Drake’s side.”

“You don’t know that.” Dick denied, leaning his elbow up, bumping it softly against Damian’s bare toes. “And I _do_ care. Not just about the fact that Tim is now sporting a black eye, but the fact that you were upset enough to punch him in the first place.”

Damian pursed his lips. “You’ll laugh at me. Like _Todd_ did.”

Dick internally cringed. Whoops. “I won’t. Trust me, okay?”

And that was a tall order – this fierce little nine-year-old didn’t trust anyone. Not even Bruce, not really. That’s what happened when you’re brought up with an extremely strict mother, the expectations of you too high even for an adult, and no contact with the other half of your family.

So for Dick to ask, for Dick to be _brazen_ _enough_ to ask…

“They took my sketchbook.”

Dick blinked, cocked his head to the side.

“They took my drawings and didn’t even _ask_. If they would have, I would have let them look, but they _didn’t_.” Damian sounded so…sad, in that moment. So _little_. “When I told them to give it back, they wouldn’t.”

_Oh._

“They looked at one of the drawings and Todd made fun of it. Said it was stupid. I tried to take it back and Drake held it above my head, kept saying he just wanted to _see_. Even when I jumped, I couldn’t reach it, and Todd just kept _laughing_.” Damian frowned, let his eyes dart up to gauge Dick’s reaction thus far. Dropped them again almost instantly. “So I hit Drake in the face, and he dropped my book. But I was mad so I was going to hit him again. Todd stepped on it when he jumped forward and pulled me off.” Damian suddenly glanced at his elbow, and rubbed it tenderly. “He threw me on the floor, and it _hurt_.”

And Dick knew. Oh, Dick _knew_ the rug burn wasn’t what upset the boy the most.

“And what happened to your drawings?”

Damian pursed his lips again, but Dick saw them quiver anyway. “Some of the papers were crinkled.” He sniffed. “The page Todd stepped on was torn.”

They lapsed into a silence, and faintly, Dick could hear Jason talking downstairs. It didn’t matter, though. He kept his focus on the little boy before him. And he could see Damian mentally steeling himself. Preparing for Dick’s excuses, for him to take the others’ side.

So instead, he smiled. Sadly, sympathetically. “I’m sorry they ruined your pictures, Damian.”

Damian shrugged.

“But maybe we can fix them?”

Damian’s eyes jerked up.

“I mean, torn or crinkled doesn’t mean they’re ruined forever.” Dick tried. “And if nothing else, maybe we can try to recreate them, or shift them into something else. Art is all about improv, right?”

“No.” Damian replied, but then hesitated. “…Not _necessarily_ , anyway.”

Dick chuckled. Patted Damian’s foot and shifted to stand. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s go see what we can do.”

He moved towards the door, fought the urge to look back until he heard:

“You don’t have to.” Damian called, almost nervously. Dick glanced over his shoulder. Saw Damian sitting up, now. “I mean. I’m sure you have more important things to do. That’s what the others say.” A pause, to look at the floor. “That’s what _Father_ says.”

Dick blinked, then smiled again. “Nope.” He promised. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do right now, honestly.”

Damian seemed surprised by that, and it broke Dick’s heart, just a little bit.

He didn’t think about it though, as Damian suddenly uncurled, and curiously pattered after him.

~~

They were all in the parlor, watching television. Alfred in the chair by the lamp, reading. Bruce, in the loveseat, glancing between the newspaper and the sitcom Tim had chosen. Jason, Tim and Cass were sprawled across the sofa, Cassandra slapping Tim’s knee every time he shifted to touch his eye.

They all heard Dick in the hallway, seconds before he appeared. And even when he did, no one knew quite what to say.

Damian was curled up in his arms, fast asleep. Cheek pressed to his chest, marker-splattered fingers dangling from underneath the cover of Dick’s letterman jacket.

“You missed dinner.” Bruce reported. He then glanced at the sofa, at Tim’s eye. “And I need to speak with Damian about-”

“We were busy.” Dick shrugged with a secretive smile. “Also, he was kind of justified, about that punch, but I’ll tell you about it later.” He shifted Damian in his arms, as he stared pointedly at the sofa. “If I were you two, I’d figure out a real good apology by the time he wakes up in the morning.”

Cass stared curiously at Jason as he scoffed. “We didn’t do sh-”

“Can it, Jay. Lying isn’t going to fly here.” Dick snapped, watching as Bruce looked suspiciously back at Tim and Jason. “Now either you apologize to him first – and in turn, he’ll apologize to Tim – or I’ll tell Bruce _exactly_ what you both did.”

Tim just sucked his lips guiltily between his teeth. Jason huffed and crossed his arms, looking pointedly away. Cassandra just glanced between them.

“That’s what I thought.” Dick replied smugly. He looked back to the adults of the house, turning as if attempting to present Damian to the room. “By the way, Alfie? We’re going to need to get some picture frames. I, uh… _found_ some new art that needs to be hung up. Would look good in the upstairs hallway, or maybe Bruce’s study. Or even better, his _office_ , downtown.”

Bruce furrowed his brows in confusion. Alfred just hummed, looking back down at his book. “Of course, Master Richard. I’ll set to searching first thing tomorrow.”

“Great.” Dick exhaled, as Damian shifted, curling tighter into his t-shirt. Dick couldn’t help but grin. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

He leaned down, smacked a kiss against Damian’s forehead, then ducked out of the room and towards the stairs.

“I’ve got a baby brother to put to bed.”


	2. Like You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 - Father & Son. In which a promise is kept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The biological universe. To spite Bruce/in a moment of weakness, Talia and Dick come together. While he missed the birth, he was told of Damian’s existence as soon as he was born. Due to other life struggles - namely, her father - Talia relinquished custody to Dick, though the two aren’t on good terms. Whether Batman does or did exist in the universe is up to the reader.

It was like a parade, as he tried to exit the ballroom.

“No date, Mr. Grayson?”

He chuckled. “Not tonight.”

“Leaving a little early, aren’t you, Mr. Grayson?”

A smile. “Prior engagement.”

“This is _your_ party!”

The push of a door, and the whoosh of the evening breeze. “And I hope you continue to enjoy it in my absence.”

“Dick.”

He paused as he ducked into the limo, glanced back at the tall, beautiful woman who followed him out onto the street.

Her skin practically glowed, while her eyes _literally_ did. He glanced down at her plunging neckline and – oh, what he wouldn’t give to run back and kiss her. To ignore the paparazzi and the rumours and everything else, and have a real, honest-to-God, _moment_.

Her lips pursed. “You promised me a _dance_.”

And dance did not mean _dance_. Dance was a euphemism for _date_. An innuendo for something much more private than a Wayne Enterprises gala. An allusion to a dark bedroom and warm skin, of kisses and touches and moans and release.

The party had just been a ruse. An excuse for the two of them to go out together, in public. He wanted that dance just as much as she did.

But he had a schedule to hold and a promise to keep.

Well…a _different_ promise.

“Soon, I _swear_ , Kor.” He grinned, hope it melted her bitterness as quickly as she always claimed it did. “Call you in the morning?”

“Hm.” She crossed her arms, turned back towards the doors, though it was a sound that told Dick she would be expecting it. “Tell _him_ I say hello.”

“Always do.” Dick nodded, but hesitated, then. “…Would I be in less trouble if I told you, you were his _favorite?_ ”

She tried to hide it, but Dick caught her tiny, warm smile. “I’ll answer that question when I answer that call in the morning.”

She disappeared back into the gala. Dick huffed a laugh and dropped into the car.

The drive was slow, quiet. Alfred had the radio low, on some smooth jazz. The divider between the seats and the driver was down, so Dick easily heard the old man’s chuckle.

“What?” He called.

“I haven’t seen you this anxious since you were a boy.” Alfred admitted. “If you keep bouncing your leg like that, you might _tear_ something.”

“Sorry.” Dick glanced at the knee he just now realized was jerking up and down, and tried to still the movement. “Just can’t help it, Alf.”

Alfred hummed. “You saw him a few hours ago, Master Richard. And there was no report of any incident. Nothing to worry about.”

“I’m not _worried_.” Dick scoffed. “I’m… _excited_.”

They stopped at a red light, and Alfred glanced back at his passenger. At the smile on his face as he glanced up through the car window, at the dark Gotham sky.

“I can see that, sir.” Alfred allowed, gently hitting the gas and heading out into the countryside. “You know, Bruce was never able to keep this particular promise. The allure of the parties and his paramours was always too much for him.”

“Preaching to the choir, Alfred. I was there, remember?” Dick snorted. “And with his mother the way she is…well, why do you think I’m so adamant to _not_ follow Bruce in those particular footsteps, hm?”

“Of course.” Alfred sighed, heart warmed by the young man behind him as Wayne Manor appeared on the horizon. “… _He_ sure is a lucky little boy.”

Dick barked a laugh, loud and childish. It devolved into an exhale, as Dick rested his chin on his fist, stared out into the hills. “Ain’t I just.”

Dick didn’t seem to notice his slip. Alfred didn’t bring it up.

~~

He didn’t bother closing the front door behind him, as he burst into the house. In his periphery he heard the quiet rumbles of a television. Didn’t glance in, knew there would be no one there, knew everyone was upstairs, in the bright little nursery at the end of the hall.

The sounds of the television melted into voices, one low and deep, the other high and curious.

And Dick couldn’t keep the grin from his face, as he practically skipped down the hall, ducked his head into the room, and let his heart soar at the sight.

Bruce was sitting in the rocking chair, Damian content on his lap. There was a book in Damian’s hand, blatantly upside down, and he was ‘reading’ it to his babysitter for the night. Bruce, for his part, seemed tired, the shadows of graying hair shimmering as he leaned his head back and let his eyes droop.

Damian, though, was sharp, and glanced back up. “Boose, you listenin’?”

They were still working on the term _grandpa_.

“Always,” Bruce blubbered, leaning back forward and wrapping his giant arms around Damian’s torso. Damian smiled smugly, kicked his footie-pajama-ed heels as Bruce smacked a kiss against his cheek. “Now, what was the puppy doing again?”

“The puppy was about to jump in the lake to save the mer-” Damian suddenly looked towards the door, face _glowing_ as he saw Dick. _“Daddy!”_

And Dick’s grin threatened to tear his own face in half, too.

He rushed forward, even as Damian launched the book to the floor and held his arms up expectantly. _Excitedly_. Lifted Damian into the air and spun him around. Damian giggled happily, clapping as Dick brought him back down, tucked him against his chest and kissed at his chubby little cheeks.

“Did you and Grandpa have a good night?” Dick asked, as Damian immediately became distracted by trying to untie his bow-tie. Damian just nodded, tongue already peeking out between his lips as he tugged at the cloth.

“Relatively. We had macaroni and chicken nuggets for dinner, then watched those _Air Bud_ dog movies for about three hours.” Bruce hummed, stretching his arms and neck. “He only cried once, right after you left.”

“Ah, we’re getting better, aren’t we?” Dick asked, reaching up when Damian pulled too tightly, helped the toddler get the knot undone. “Thanks again, Bruce.”

“No problem.” Bruce smiled, leaned his head back once more as he watched Damian with a smile. “How was the gala?”

“Typical. Booze, dresses, lots of schmoozing by your business friends.” Dick chuckled. “I told Lucius you were on babysitting duty tonight. He laughed and asked that I tell you hello, and that he’s proud of you, for finally reaching this stage in your life.”

“Oh yes, the babysitting grandpa. What a milestone.” Bruce rolled his eyes and stood. “To be honest, though, Dick. I know how those parties go. I know…” He frowned. “I know a certain miss Kory Anders was on the guest list tonight.” A pause. “I’m surprised you actually came back.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Dick grinned again, and Bruce could see that parental exhaustion in the corner of his eyes. Almost completely hidden by the absolute adoration they held there too, though. “I made a promise.”

“You deserve to go and have a fun night out.” Bruce reminded. “…There are more important things to life than storytime.”

“Not to him.” Dick responded confidently, as Damian glanced up at him with those bright blue eyes, skin the perfect mixture of his and Talia’s – and that reminded him. Just because there was still bad blood between he and the woman, he should call her soon. Let Damian chat with his mother. It’d been a while. “And he’s far too young to be betrayed, don’t you think, B?”

“…Hm.” And this time, it was an odd sound. Quiet, reflective. Maybe a little bit guilty? Dick didn’t get to question it, though, as Bruce yawned, tried to hide it. Dick laughed quietly, as Damian twisted around, began making needy noises for the book he’d thrown to the ground.

“Go to bed, _Dad_.” Dick said playfully, attempting to maneuver his tuxedo jacket off, first sliding it off one arm, then shifting Damian to that hip as he wiggled it off the other. “You’ve had a long day.”

“You’re not too old to ground, young man.” Bruce shot back, just as amused. But he acquiesced, leaning forward and planting another kiss to Damian’s cheek. “Goodnight, honey.”

“Bye Boose.” Damian returned in a sleepy whisper, reaching out for Bruce’s face, holding it tightly as he returned the gentle peck. Bruce seemed to relax under the affection, even as he pulled away and stepped out of the room. As soon as he was gone, Damian looked up at Dick expectantly.

Dick smiled, kissed his nose. “You ready?”

“Mhm!”

“Okay.” Dick chuckled. “Same book you were reading with Grandpa?”

“Mhmmmm.”

“Alright.” Dick grunted, bending down to pick up the book. “Chair or bed?”

“Bed!” Damian near-shouted. Dick laughed, kicking his shoes off, and pulling his shirttails out as he crawled onto the little mattress. These pants weren’t made for such positions, but he ignored the tugging of the seams as he crossed his legs, and settled Damian in his lap.

“By the way,” Dick mentioned as Damian squirmed. “Miss Kory says hello.”

“Hi Mith Kory.” Damian replied distractedly, watching the book in Dick’s hand intensely.

“Do you want to help me call her in the morning?” Dick asked. “She misses you.”

“Mhm.” Damian sounded, reaching out for the book. Dick gently held it out of his range. Playfully, mostly, but also knowing that once Damian got what he wanted, he would tune out any real conversation Dick would try to have with him. “Sur.”

Damian finally got his hands on the book and snatched it from Dick’s fingers, flopping it open and flipping excitedly across the pages. He stopped somewhere in the middle, and began slapping at the pictures.

“Okay, okay.” Dick hummed, softly plucking the book away again. “Do you want to read or do you want Daddy to?”

“Daddy!” Damian cheered, throwing his hands in the air.

“Daddy it is.” Dick agreed, turning the book the right way up, and turning the pages back to the beginning.  As he did so, Damian leaned back against his chest, looked up at him through his lashes and bangs.

Without warning, he reached up, much like he’d done to Bruce, and held onto Dick’s chin as he mumbled, “Love you, Daddy.”

Dick felt his heart flutter as Damian attempted to pull him down, and kissed awkwardly as his chin. He huffed a grin, curled around the baby, and peppered his little cheeks with pecks too.

“Daddy, no!” Damian giggled, pushing at Dick’s nose. “It’s story time! Not kissy time!”

“Oops, my bad.” Dick said, with one last smack to Damian’s forehead. He then leaned his face against Damian’s temple, holding the book in front of them. Damian flopped back once more, hands tangling in the front of his onesie, as he let out a quiet sigh that let Dick know it wasn’t going to be long before Damian was completely out. “Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess…”


	3. Like You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 3 - Lovers. In which a romance is fallen into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a pseudo-Batman Beyond universe, though that aspect is not mentioned. But a universe where they’re both older; Damian in his mid- to late-20s, and Dick is graying as well as, as mentioned pretty quickly, lost his eye.

When he woke up – if it could be called that – he heard voices. Two of them. Male. _Worried_.

“What’s the diagnosis?” Deep and slow. Stoic.

The other sighed.

“Or should I say _damage?_ ”

Silence.

“Will he live?” He was pushing now. Sounding almost… _scared_. “Will he _survive?_ ”

“Of course.” The other answered immediately. Clinical-sounding, but reassuring. “He’ll be…fine. In the long run.”

“And right now?”

“Right now…we need to adapt.” He sighed again. “We need to…figure out a game plan...”

“Drake.”

“…Recovery time, maybe a physical therapy schedule, potentially new living arrangements-”

“ _Drake_ -”

 _“I couldn’t save his eye.”_ It was a near shout, but pained and guilty in its delivery. “I couldn’t…it was unsalvageable. And I was scared to try, Damian. I was terrified that if I did, I’d lose him too. The operation was already rushed, already dangerous. He was _dying_ , he’d flat-lined on me twice already at that point and I was running out of blood to give him, and I had to make the _decision_. For him, for all of us, and I just…I _just_ …”

A quiet sob.

More silence.

“You saved him, Drake.” The deep voice whispered, then there was the shuffle of movement. “He will never be angry at you for that.”

“But I didn’t save _all_ of him.” The clinical voice was no longer that, no longer calm. It was shaky, and muffled, like he was pressed against cloth or a shirt. “I failed him, Damian, I-“

“You did not.” The deep voice returned harshly. “You gave him everything you had, and did everything you could. In fact, you’ve done _enough_.”

Another sob.

“You don’t have to do anything else. I’ll take it from here.” A whisper, barely that. Barely heard over the beeping machines. “Just tell me what to do, Drake I’ll take care of him.”

Another whimper. Another heartbreaking sound, as Dick felt himself drifting back off into dreamland.

“I’ll take care of him.”

~~

And Damian did.

Dick watched, from his new bed in the quiet loft outside of town – the one Bruce insisted they go to while he recovered, to get away from the stress, the noise, the media, the world – as Damian catered to his every whim. Made him every meal, gave him every bath and every medication. Answered every phone call and every knock on the door. Stayed up late to prepare for the next day, and got up early to get everything Dick needed before he even woke up.

Damian stopped going on patrol. Stopped taking nights off to see his friends. His pets were with them at the loft at first, but once the puppy was deemed too rowdy, and the other cats too noisy, only loyal old Alfred was allowed to remain. Damian, who loved those animals more than anything in the world, they all _knew_ , parted with them easily and quickly, banishing them back to the manor, with quiet promises to visit them once a week.

It was a promise he broke often, with the same reason every time.

_Grayson needed me._

“You don’t have to do this.” Dick wheezed one day, burying his noise in Alfred’s fur as Damian fixed a stitch that had accidentally opened along his shoulder. “We can hire a nurse.”

“That would be a waste of our resources.” Damian replied gently, as he sat on the edge of the mattress, working quickly and efficiently. “And no, I don’t _have_ to. I merely _want_ to.”

Dick twisted, stared over at Damian with a misty gaze. He’d gotten tall with age, features sharpening, looking more like his mother’s than his father’s. His dark hair was long, a bit too long probably, and shaggy, as he hadn’t gotten any sort of cut since before Dick’s injuries, and practically refused to get one now. He was strong, muscular, but lean, lithe. The best qualities of all those who had raised him.

But height wasn’t the only thing that had grown as he entered his twenties. His compassion did, too. He was kind, became the kindest of all of them – and even Tim admitted so.

He hated being the recipient of that kindness. Hated being so damn _dependent_.

Slowly, he reached up, took hold of Damian’s still stitching hands.

“Thank you,” he whispered as his vision blurred. He reached up with his other hand to wipe at his eyes – and immediately hit the eye patch. He tightened his lips in frustration, felt the tears in his remaining eye building faster – because he was deformed now, a monster for the rest of his life; a freak, a Cyclops, a _useless, hideous beast_. He tried to blink the wetness away, even as he squeezed at Damian’s fingers. “Thank you _so much_ , Damian.”

Damian paused, and even though Dick’s vision was too smeared to see him, he heard Damian’s amused hum.

“The morphine is making you sappy.” Damian decided. Dick felt a stitch go tight, and then one of Damian’s hands slipped from under his, landed sweetly on his cheek. A thumb stroked gently under his eyelid, taking the moisture away, before there was the bounce of the mattress moving and warm lips on his forehead. “Now sleep. I’ll be done in a few moments.”

And the loft was quaint, but by no means was it small. There were three bedrooms, with Dick being situated in the one considered the master. They tried to keep the pets in one of the other ones when they were here, and, despite Dick’s protests, Damian never used the third room.

Instead, he lived in the rocking chair he’d placed beside Dick’s bed. _Bearable_ , Damian called it, _and practical. Easy to get in and out of, and comfortable enough_. Dick thought otherwise, though, when he woke in the middle of the night a few times, and found Damian curled awkwardly between the wooden armrests, sleep obviously anything but peaceful.

“At least sleep in my bed, then.” Dick pleaded one evening, as Damian scurried around the room, checking Dick’s charts and records, preparing the next dose of medication and new bandages that he would spend the next forty-five minutes rewrapping. Not to mention he’d picked up some of the fact-checking for the Batman’s most recent case, and kept darting back to his laptop that was plugged into the outlet by the nightstand. “I mean, if you’re worried I’m going to need you in the middle of the night, not that I have thus _far_ , and are going to set up shop in here permanently _anyway_ , at least let yourself _lie down_.”

“And risk harming you again?” Damian scoffed, rolling his eyes. Dick frowned at the bags underneath them. “Pass.”

“Damian-”

“Besides, you know how Father is.” Damian continued. “And with this case almost finished, I’m on call at all times. Me getting out of the bed every time he needs me would disturb _your_ rest, and _you_ _need_ that.”

“I don’t need it more than you or anyone else, don’t be a brat.” Dick scolded, crossing his arms. Damian smirked as he leaned over him, and lifted the eye patch to look at the healing underneath. Dick watched him poutily, before huffing. “If you don’t sleep in this bed – or any _other_ bed in this stupid apartment – I won’t take the meds.”

Damian rolled his eyes, letting the eye patch snap back against Dick’s skin in punishment. “Don’t be childish.”

“Don’t think I won’t be, kiddo.” Dick warned as he backed away, typed something else on the laptop and then disappeared from the room. It still hurt to raise his voice higher than a loud murmur, but he did it anyway. “I can be _just_ as stubborn as you, you know!”

“If not more so.” Damian chuckled as he returned, his nightly cup of tea in hand, along with a small container of pills and a water bottle. He set his mug on the nightstand, and worked to open the pills. When he did, he held them and the water out. “Trust me, Grayson, I know.”

Dick merely eyed the pills and turned up his nose.

Damian sighed. “Grayson.”

Nothing.

“ _Richard_.”

Nada.

“I will call Pennyworth if I have to.”

Dick leaned away.

Damian exhaled again, let it fall into a groan, as he suddenly moved away, stomped around the bed. Dick watched, in his periphery mostly, as Damian dropped down on the open side of the mattress.

“Happy?”

Dick pursed his lips. “…Will you stay there?”

“…For how long?”

“The rest of the night.” Dick demanded. “You don’t leave that spot until you get a minimum of eight hours sleep.”

Damian sat there, glanced along the blankets, then flopped dramatically, exasperatedly, back against the pillows. “… _Fine_.”

Dick grinned, uncrossed his arms and snatched the pills and water away. “Then yes, I’m happy.”

And he remained so, as the arrangement turned out to _not_ be a one-time deal. Every day it got easier and easier to convince Damian to sleep in the bed, got easier to physically pull him from that rocking chair and onto the mattress.

And every morning Dick felt his heart leap as he woke up and found Damian next to him. When, some mornings, he found Damian wrapped in his arms, or found himself wrapped up in Damian’s. He looked peaceful now, as he slept curled up in the comforter, hair strewn across the pillows, lashes spread across his tanned cheeks.

“Thank you,” He’d whisper again, brushing Damian’s hair back. On some mornings, if the drugs hadn’t completely worn off over night, he would lean over, plant a kiss to Damian’s face. Linger there. “Thank you for taking care of me, Damian.”

And sometimes, Damian would smirk, lazily. Keep his eyes closed, and snuggle deeper as he whispered. “Sap.”

He doesn’t know when it happened, and if asked, Damian would probably admit he didn’t either. He doesn’t know when the constant cuddling started, when being physically close became a necessity for the both of them. When gentle touches – brushing nails across arms, rubbing spines and shoulder blades, intertwining fingers and stroking thumbs across the backs of hands – became a quiet norm. When his heart began to flutter when Damian smiled, or when Damian began to blush every time he touched him to fix the bandages.

Neither of them said anything about it. Neither of them really felt the need to. If Dick thought about it, he wouldn’t be able to say why that was.

This continued, for a few months more. Damian acting as his nurse, and Dick, as the reluctant patient. Of Damian spending his days caring for him, being his eyes and ears to the world, his therapist, both physical and mental, when needed. Of Damian spending his nights lying next to him in that too-big bed, reading books, analyzing reports, researching evidence, and, finally, dozing off.

At Dick’s side, always. Like he always had been.

(Like Dick suddenly realized – he always _wanted_ him to be.)

It was when the wound where his eye once was healed completely, when he could walk on his own, without assistance from either person or cane, that they finally left that quiet loft. To go to a party being thrown in Dick’s honor, for his bravery and recovery.

He sat in the love seat, watching contently as Damian walked gracefully through the flat, already mostly dressed, searching for Dick’s bowtie. They were running late, but neither of them minded. Knew none of the guests at this shindig would either.

It took only a few minutes for Damian to find the garment he needed, and he quickly moved over towards Dick, looping the bowtie around his neck, even as Dick parted his knees to trap him between.

He openly stared up at Damian as he worked, twisting the fabric, concentrating on the knot. Dick didn’t sit up, not really, remained relaxed even as he slowly ran his hands up Damian’s thighs, skirted them underneath the not-yet-tucked shirttails and clung to his hips, tugging gently at the edge of his dress pants.

Damian didn’t seem at all bothered by the gesture. In fact, he smiled a little bit. Soft and private. The smile he had when he thought Dick wasn’t looking. The one that made Dick’s insides positively _melt_.

“Are we going to stay in the loft?” He asked. “Like, permanently?”

“Father said either of us may, if we wanted.”

Dick nodded, pulled Damian a little closer. Kept one hand under the shirt, bringing the other one out to wrap around Damian’s back, stroking up his spine. Whispered: “…Will you stay in my bed?”

Damian snorted. “I didn’t realize that was a question that needed to be _asked_.”

Dick gulped, just slightly, rubbing circles into Damian’s warm skin with his thumb. He glanced away for a second, then inhaled, sitting up, leaning his chin into Damian’s shirt, staring adoringly upwards, even as he dragged him slowly downwards. “…Do I have to say it?”

And he was thankful, because he knew that Damian knew exactly what ‘it’ was.

The bowtie was pulled tight, even with Dick’s fidgeting, even as Dick pressed their cheeks together, brushed his lips along Damian’s skin, and suddenly there were gentle fingers in his hair. Along the sides, around his ears, where Dick knew his most prominent gray was. “Not if you don’t wish to.”

He smiled, hiding his face along Damian’s throat. Let his heart stutter as he gave the slightest of yanks forward, as Damian shifted to be straddling his thighs, collapsed forward on his own accord and pressed Dick against the back of the recliner. Sighed contently as Damian continued to pet along his temple.

Damian chuckled, and shifted back a little as soon as Dick moved in the slightest. Cocked his head to the side and lowered his eyelids. Let Dick run his hand around and up his chest, push his hair behind his ear and hold the back of his head. Met him halfway as Dick pulled him down again, as Dick swept his lips hesitantly across his, before trying to sweetly devour them completely.

Damian allowed it. Returned it ten-fold. Sucked on Dick’s lip, begged soundlessly for entry to that mouth that Dick seemed to be so freely offering to him. Pushed and pushed, as if trying to physically get under Dick’s skin, to burrow inside the safety of his ribs. Stroked his hands down Dick’s neck, clutched at Dick’s shirt, clung to it as tightly as he’d ever held anything.

It was as close to any sort of declaration as they were going to get, for right now.

As they parted, Dick realized for the first time how desperate he had been, for this moment. How he had moved his hands from Damian’s body, was now holding his face, fingers pressed urgently into his cheekbones. Kept their foreheads pressed together, even as Damian’s quiet pants washed across his mouth.

And it was a stupid thing to say. Pointless, with no lead in, or connection to any previous thought.

But they had just admitted their lingering feelings, however silently, just forayed into that unknown and found themselves unscathed, and maybe already better off.

And Dick just had to be _sure_.

“…Even with the eye patch?” He whispered, opening his eye to stare into Damian’s.

And Damian grinned. Shifted his fingers to run along the string holding the patch in place before cupping Dick’s face. Ran his thumbs across his cheekbones as he thoughtfully tilted his head and pecked at the covering, lingering against it before curling around Dick’s head, leaving kisses in his wake, and murmuring in his ear.

“ _Especially_ with the eye patch.”

They barely made it to the party.


	4. Love Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 4 - Best Friends. In which a partnership ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The canon universe. If you haven’t listened to the supplemental song ‘Hold Each Other’ by A Great Big World yet, I suggest you do so now.

They sat on the rooftop. Side by side. Cowls and masks off. Capes floating in the pleasant breeze. The city below them, for once, was quiet. And even if it wasn’t, the others could handle it. Dick wasn’t going to trade this for much, this moment.

Their last patrol together.

He leaned back on his hands, kicked his feet back and forth. He could see Damian in his periphery, shoulders slumped naturally, elbows resting on his knees. They were both staring at the sky above them, the stars they could just maybe see from here.

“It’s not going to be the same.” Damian admitted softly. Not sadly, or happily. Just stated the fact.

“You’re right.” Dick agreed. “It’s going to be pretty hard. For the _both_ of us.”

He hoped that was encouraging. He hoped that Damian understood that he wasn’t the only one who didn’t really _want_ this. That Damian wasn’t the only one who clung to this partnership, wanted to stay in it.

“I could return to Bludhaven with you.” Damian thought out loud. Slowly, he turned, looked back towards Dick. “With Batman Incorporated, it would come as a surprise to no one to see a team there.”

“See a _Batman_ there.” Dick corrected with a smile. “Because yeah, there can be a lot of Batmans, but there’s only _one_ Robin.”

Damian pursed his lips, turned away again. “Well then perhaps I should start a _Robin_ Incorporated.”

Dick snorted, rolled his neck back to return his gaze to the clouds. “Nah, you’re too _spoiled_. I mean, you barely share the title _now_ , with _us_ , the ones who’ve actually used the title before. What would you do with an army of strangers calling themselves Robin too?”

“I would…allow it.” Damian pouted. “They’d cover Gotham – and their Batman counterparts across the world – and I would remain with you, and make sure you don’t get yourself _killed_. After all, I’m pretty sure I’m the _only_ reason you haven’t ended up six feet under yet.”

“Aha. Alright I deserved that one.” Dick chuckled, bouncing his heel against Damian’s ankle. “But hey – don’t worry about it too much, okay? I won’t be far away. Bludhaven’s just down the river, and even then. I’m not leaving for another month or so.”

“Still.” Damian hummed. Repeated: “It won’t be the same.”

“Nope.” Dick sighed. “You’ll have to call me Nightwing now.”

“Ugh.” Damian groaned, though Dick knew it was in jest. “Batman is a _much_ more respectable title.”

“Of course, that’s why I’m giving it back to your dad.” Dick shrugged. “…He’s really excited to work with you, you know.”

Damian scoffed, that same silly sound he always made. It was almost nostalgic, now. “No he’s not. He just doesn’t _trust_ me. He wants to keep me close so he can keep an _eye_ on me.” A pause. “Maybe you should be upset, Grayson. Because it almost looks like he doesn’t trust _you_ either.”

“He trusts us both just fine.” Dick rolled his eyes. “Just give it a chance, okay? And if B is really as bad as you think he’ll be, well. You call me.”

“And what will you do?”

“I’ll set him straight.” Dick promised. “And…if I can’t? Then I’ll just kidnap you for a few days. Until B cools off or comes to his senses. It always worked with Tim and Jay.”

“Hm.” Damian sighed. Kept his eyes darting across the city. “…You were a good Batman, Grayson. Regardless of what anyone said about you.”

“Thanks for the confidence booster, Damian, but even I know the old law.” Damian tilted his head in a signal he was listening closer. “Can’t have a good Batman without a _great_ Robin.”

Damian didn’t react, at least not physically. But after a moment, he murmured, barely caught on the breeze. “If I am great, it is only because you _made_ me so.”

Well. Dick didn’t have anything to say to that.

So he didn’t.

But it appeared Damian wasn’t done anyway.

“You are my best friend.” Damian whispered, voice seemingly disappearing with every syllable. Dick smiled, though, and pushed off his hands, even as Damian glanced sheepishly up at him. “…And I hope you will remain as such, even after this.”

Dick looped an arm around Damian’s shoulders, tugged him gently into his side.

“Of course.” Dick promised softly, kissing at Damian’s temple. Damian’s eyes had dropped now, and he allowed the gesture. “Batman and Robin forever, right?”

“But there is no lore about _Nightwing_ and Robin.” Damian countered glumly.

“I _love_ your sense of humour, you know that?” Dick laughed, squeezing Damian’s arm. “Just as much as I love _you_.”

Now it was Damian who remained silent.

“And I am _so_ _proud_ of you. Honestly, I couldn’t be prouder if I tried.” He added. “Working with Bruce has been your dream, I know it has. And, despite what we’re both feeling about it right now, no matter what anyone says, you _deserve_ that chance.”

He felt more than saw Damian gulp, push his head childishly against Dick’s side. Reach up and cling to Dick’s wrist.

And he meant every word, would be completely willing to prove it, should anyone not believe him – but he wondered how many people had ever told the boy that before. Wondered how many people told him he _deserved_ something, not that he had to keep fighting to _be_ deserving.

Suddenly, there was an image in his head of the boy Damian was before. That anger and ferocity. That viciousness. The hidden sadness that they could all so clearly see. Always fighting, always demanding. Always silently begging.

He could see himself, too, those mere months ago really. Ignoring Damian, _avoiding_ Damian. How many times did he call him a brat? How many times did he join in on Tim and Barbara’s cruel and sarcastic jokes?

And now look at him. Look at _them_. Struggling in letting each other go.

He smiled. Barked a laugh at the irony – and not only that, but because Damian was right, Dick would _not_ be alive right now if it wasn’t for that little twerp watching his back – and ran his hand up and down Damian’s arm before slowly pulling away.

“But, we better get going, before you feel the need to call me dramatic or something.” Dick tried, blinking back the tears he could feel threatening. Damian looked silently, sadly, _regretfully_ up at him. “One last jump by Marceline’s Pizza? For old time’s sake?”

Damian stared at him for a second more, before breaking out into a smile and jumping to his feet. “Last one there pays?”

“Or…is maybe just a rotten egg.” Dick hummed, following the movement. Flipping his cape around and preparing his cowl, knowing full well he was paying regardless. “How about that instead.”

“Oh, fine.” Damian chuckled. He hesitated then, though, and Dick heard the preparatory inhale. “…Grayson?”

“Yeah?”

He glanced down in time to watch Damian press his mask back to his face. Settle his cape for his jump.

“…Thank you.”

_For teaching me. For sticking by me. For protecting me. For trusting me. For loving me._

He jumped without another word.

Dick watched him for a second, before letting his signature grin fall onto his cheeks as he pulled the cowl up and over his face, one last time.

He jumped after his partner. His Robin. _His_ best friend.

“My pleasure.”


End file.
